The Donna Wears Prada
by CatsBalletHarveySpecter
Summary: Harvey's need for a pair of glasses leads to him and Donna spending the day shopping and strolling down memory lane.


AN: Hello friends! Very excited to finally bring you this fun little piece we've been working on for most of the summer! We go through so many writing brainstorming sessions on our individual stories together and had a blast writing a story together last time so we decided to give it another shot with some fluffy domestic darvey! (I think we make a pretty good team, but I could be biased) - and as always, I'm beyond grateful that such a talented person took the time to write this with me, she rocks, you should go get lost in every single one of her stories.

We hope this brings a smile to your face & makes your darvey heart happy!

Happy Reading - May & Sarah

(I've posted this to my account but if you like what you read, visit May's page **(darveyscactus)** for some more incredible stories that will no doubt steal a piece of your heart)

* * *

**The Donna Wears Prada**

**.**

**.**

"Harvey, can you tell me how much nutmeg to put in?" she asks, gesturing to the next ingredient as she stirs the batter around in the bowl nestled in the crook of her elbow.

Her question elicits nothing but a soft grunt from her fiancé, whose eyes are fixated on the baseball game playing on the TV across the room.

"Harvey," she calls again, slightly louder than the first time, which draws his attention, "you said you wanted to help with this, so please be an _active_ participant," she teases him.

"Yes dear," he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "what do you need?"

"Nutmeg," she repeats, "how much?" gesturing to the recipe printed out in front of him.

Harvey looks down at the piece of paper on the counter and squints his eyes. He glances over at Donna and, while she's turned around tending to the apples boiling on the stove, lifts the paper close to his eyes, straining to read the list of ingredients. He pulls the paper far away from his face, still unable to quite make out the small type before quickly dropping it down on the counter as she turns back around.

"A dash," he answers confidently.

"Really?" she replies with amusement, "is that the technical term?"

"Yup," he nods.

"Harvey," she sighs and exhales a breath, "this is the first time Louis has ever hosted Rosh Hashanah," she explains, "he asked us to make this and told us to follow the recipe exactly," she says, reminding him of their conversation with Louis earlier in the day in which he explained all the ways his dinner was going to be better than the one Esther held last year. He doesn't respond, but tilts his head to one side and purses his lips slightly - his usual reaction for anything involving Louis.

"So please," she starts, putting down the bowl and joining him on the other side of the counter, "tell me _exactly_ how much nutmeg we need," she sasses, taking her place behind him and wrapping her hands loosely around his waist as she spoke.

"Uh," he starts, once again squinting down at the paper in front of him. Still standing behind him, she rises to her toes, glancing over his shoulder to read the recipe, getting tired of waiting on him to respond. "¼, teaspon, great," she says, patting him on the back before reaching around him and grabbing the jar.

"What's next?" she asks, adding the spice to the batter and folding it in.

"Next for what?" he jokes.

"The recipe, hot shot," she sasses, flicking a pile of flour that had fallen out of the bowl and onto the counter in his direction.

"Ah yes," he replies, rolling his eyes before once again squinting down at the paper in front of him.

"You can't read it," she observes, laughing as wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes as he continues to squint, "old man," she whispers, but just loud enough for him to hear.

"I can read it just fine, thank you very much," he replies with a huff.

"Okay then," she says, teasing him and walking her fingers across the counter to pull the recipe away from him before flicking her gaze up to meet his, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Donna, I'm not concussed," he retorts.

"Maybe," she shrugs, "but you'd be able to answer the question if you weren't blind."

He lets out a deep sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets and rolling his eyes at her before speaking. "Three," he answers. "You happy now?"

"No," she sasses back, "give me your phone," she says, palm outstretched in his direction.

"Donna -," he starts to complain, but before he could finish his sentence, she's passing him his phone back.

"There," she says with a satisfied smile, "we've got an appointment Saturday morning."

"We?"

"Well, if I don't go with you how will I know you actually go?" she reasons, "besides, I think you'll look cute in glasses," she says, taking a step towards him, her hands loosely grazing the fabric of his shirt around his waist.

"I hate you," he says matter-of-factly, but the wide grin across his face suggests otherwise.

"I hate you too," she replies, before planting a quick kiss on his lips and dismissing him from the kitchen so she could finish Louis' challah with minimal interruption.

.

Three attempts and one bribe that involved the file room and a late night at the office later and they were finally on their way to the mall. The late Saturday morning sun shone brightly as Harvey drove them through the city, hiding behind his sunglasses as they wound through the busy streets in comfortable silence.

Getting him to leave this morning had proved to be more difficult than signing Michael Jordan had been, and despite Donna's better instincts, she gave in to his charm more than once that morning before she finally found the will power to resist him and insist on leaving the apartment.

Upon convincing Harvey to at least look at some glasses, she'd also managed to convince him that they should spend the afternoon shopping for a few new dresses and maybe (hopefully) the matching handbags.

"You could at least pretend you're happy about spending a day without any office talk with me," she teases, her hand coming to rest on his knee as he turned off the freeway.

"I am excited to spend the day with you, I'm just not looking forward to what we're spending it doing," he replies, his eyes fixed on the road before them.

"Just give the glasses a chance, please, for me?" she asks with a soft smile.

"Fine, but I'm telling you I'm not going to like them."

.

"Mr and Mrs. Specter," a tall lanky blonde greets them as they enter the optometrist shop.

"Oh, it's actually…" Harvey begins to correct the women when Donna cuts him off.

"It's nice to meet you," she greets the women with a handshake.

"Just give us one moment to set up the examination room for you Mr. Specter," she says before excusing herself into the examination room.

"Mr and Mrs Specter?" he cocks an eyebrow at her.

"It's not a far stretch from the truth, you'll be Mrs Specter soon enough," he smiles.

"Paulsen-Specter," she corrects with a wink. They'd been volleying last names for months, Donna wanting to keep her own but also wanting to take Harvey's, often leading to lengthy evening discussions on what sounded better, Paulsen-Specter or Specter-Paulsen.

"Harvey, we're ready for you," the blonde calls from the examination room and he leaves Donna with a small kiss on the cheek to get his eyes checked.

While Harvey is having his eyes checked, Donna roams along the rows of designer glasses, running her fingers along the chunky Tom Ford frames and settling in front of the Dior selection. She selects a few pairs she thinks would suit him and lays them out on the counter; a dark tortoise shell pair of Tom Ford frames, a similar navy pair of Tom Ford frames, a black pair of Dior frames, and a sleek black pair of Armani frames.

She picks up a clear pair of Kate Spade frames and places them on her own face, peering at her reflection in the mirror. She was never a fan of how glasses looked on her, but these ones weren't so bad, if anything they made her look smarter, more sophisticated.

"Maybe you should be the one getting glasses, those look cute," he says coming up behind her in the mirror.

"Unfortunately I have perfect vision, unlike your..." she takes the prescription sheet from his hand, "Oh my god, how did you get anything done at work? You're blind as a bat!"

"I am _not_!" he protests, hands coming up to fold across his chest defensively.

"Old man," she teases, playfully nudging his arm.

"That's it, I'm going home so I don't miss the game," he decides, turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door.

"Not so fast Mister, you promised you'd at least try a few pairs on," she calls after him and he stops, rooted in his spot between her and the exit.

"Fine," he sighs, "But only a few."

A few pairs of glasses quickly turned into a few dozen, and after an hour of trying on various styles and designers, they had come back to the original tortoise shell pair of Tom Ford frames that Donna had made Harvey try on first.

Shopping for glasses wasn't as horrible as he'd thought it would be, though some of the frames she made him try on were questionable and made his forehead look huge, he was enjoying watching her reactions. Her expression shifts from goofy to serious as she hands him various types of frames and she giggles when he tries on what she deems an "old man frame". Every third pair or so she hands him that first Tom Ford pair and her eyes pool with emotion he doesn't recognize when he turns to face her for an opinion.

After he puts the pair of glasses on for the third time, he recognizes the look in her eyes as lust and he realizes she finds him attractive in the pair, and he's sold. Despite his initial protests, he decides that the glasses don't look too bad on him, if anything they make him look more put together and that's a look he isn't opposed to. Donna evidently being into the way he looked in them was an added bonus.

They place the order for the frames and are told they can pick them up within the hour so Donna suggests they wander around the plaza while they wait.

.

They exit the store hand in hand and, as Harvey turns towards the restaurant across the street, he feels her tug his hand in the opposite direction.

"I thought we'd get some lunch?" he explains, gesturing to the cafe.

"I packed you a granola bar," she replies, "here," reaching into her purse and tossing him the snack.

His lips part slightly - a mix of surprise and amusement - but before he can even come up with something witty to reply, she continues, "Prada is_ right here_," she says, gesturing to the store, "it would be disrespectful _not_ to go," she finishes, tugging on his hand again and flashing him that look she knows he can't say no to.

"You had this whole thing planned, didn't you?" he huffs, feigning annoyance, as they walk towards Prada.

"I'm not apologizing for who I am," she replies, tossing back a laugh.

He's seated on a cushion across from the impressive display of shoes that covers the entire length of the wall. He's scrolling through his phone, checking the score of the Yankees game he's missing, looking up at her occasionally. She's in her element here, excitedly chatting with the attendant and pointing out the various styles.

He flips over to his email, and just as he's about to reply to something from Samantha, she calls his name and he looks up to see her holding two seemingly identical pairs of black heels.

"Which ones do you like better?" she asks.

"Donna, they're exactly the same."

"They are _not_," she fires back, almost offended by his comment. "This one," she starts to explain, holding up the shoe in her left hand, "is suede and has a block heel. And this one," holding up the shoe in her right hand, "is leather and has a pointed toe."

"Oh yes I see now, extremely different,' he sasses, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Men," Donna replies, shaking her head at the sales attendant and handing her the leather shoe, along with several others before she flits away to the back room to retrieve Donna's sizes.

Donna sits down on the cushion next to Harvey and rests her hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks for indulging me," she says, her head falling to his shoulder.

"Anything for you," he replies, turning to kiss the top of her head, "Besides," he says with a breath, "it's about time we got you some shoes, you don't have _any_ at home," he jokes just as the attendant comes back from the back room, struggling to carry the boxes for all eight pairs of shoes that Donna had picked out.

"Yeah," she sasses, "just like we _had_ to go to the record store last weekend because you have _nothing_ to listen to," rolling her eyes as she opens the first box and slips off her shoes.

Donna went through the first three quickly, not liking how they felt on her feet and passing them back to the sales attendant.

Next, she slips on a pair of deep red patent leather heels, pointed toe with cutouts along the middle of the foot so that only the heel and toe were covered. She walks back and forth a couple of times before stopping in front of the mirror, looking down at the shoes.

"What do you think?" she asks, turning back to him.

"They're shoes, Donna," he says, glancing up at her reflection, "you'll wear them to work and then as soon as you get home you'll take them off and put those god awful slippers on."

"Do _not_ talk about my slippers that way," she deadpans, taking a step forward and tilting her head to the side, contemplating the shoes in the mirror, "I just don't know if I have anything to wear these with," she muses.

"You're telling me that in that giant closet of yours there isn't a _single_ dress that matches those shoes?" he laughs as she tosses him an eye roll of her shoulder.

He shifts on the cushion, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He looks down at the shoes and after a second, his eyes move up her long legs until he catches her gaze in the mirror, his mouth turned up in a small smile.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, returning the smile.

"You have that one black dress," he offers, "with the gold zipper up the back - you could wear the shoes with that dress?"

She turns around to face him, smile growing wider as he continues to describe the dress.

"I like the top of it too," he says, holding her gaze, "it makes your neck look really long, and it scoops down low enough to be a little bit of a tease," he finishes, his voice lowering slightly.

She feels a slight blush rise to her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," she says, taking a deep breath in, "I just didn't think you noticed things like that."

"Donna, I notice everything about you," he replies, holding her gaze, his voice full of sincerity.

"Sap," she breathes, taking a step forward and bending to give him a quick kiss, one hand coming to rest on each of his knees as he does.

"So, you're getting these shoes?"

"Yes, I'm getting these shoes."

"So we're done here?" he asks optimistically, moving slightly to stand up.

"Not so fast Mister," she laughs, pushing his shoulder slightly so he falls back on the cushion, I still have four boxes to get through.

They leave the store twenty minutes later, bags full of the maroon heels, black leather pumps, and another pair of maroon kitten heels Donna had called "practical" - a concept that Harvey did not quite understand.

After a quick trip back to pick up Harvey's prescription, they walk towards the restaurant that he'd pointed out earlier - his prize for being cooperative through the appointment and subsequent visit to Prada.

"You know," she starts, taking his hand as they cross the street, "after lunch we have to look for a dress to match those maroon shoes you love so much."

"What?" he says, surprised, "I already picked out the matching dress," he attempts to argue, although he knows it's probably a lost cause.

"Yeah, but a girl needs _options_," she teases as his hand falls to her lower back, guiding her through the door to the restaurant.

.

"Donna come _on_, not another one," Harvey complains, lugging the shoe bags from the previous store along as he trailed after Donna into Roland Mouret.

He drags his feet as she passes through the entrance to the store, his eyes glued on the back of his fiancées head.

He loved spending time with Donna, even the occasional shopping trip didn't bother him, but five stores and double as many bags later, he was looking forward to getting home.

He plopped himself on the bench set up in front of the rack of dresses Donna browsed through, earning a few knowing head nods from the two other men following their wives around the store.

"Harvey, what do you think of this one?" Donna asks, holding up a maroon jumpsuit with a slit that he knew would dip well into her chest and showcase her cleavage.

"It's nice," he says, pretending that his mind isn't picturing the way the soft, silky fabric would cling to her body. The colour reminded him of a dress she used to wear at the office, back when she worked at his desk. The piece was maroon and form-fitting and he remembered falling asleep dreaming about the way that dress would look on his bedroom floor on more than one occasion.

"Harvey, that's not helpful!" She pouts, holding the jumpsuit up to her body in the full-length mirror next to the rack.

"What do you want me to say? Donna, that would look incredible on you and you should buy it so that I can take it off later?" He smirks, knowing his answer was not the one she was looking for.

"You're an idiot," she rolls her eyes at him, placing the jumpsuit back on the rack.

"An idiot who thinks you would look hot in this," he grins proudly, holding up an emerald green dress with a slit along the left thigh and an exposed back.

"Are you done?" She laughs while sending him a pointed look.

"Try it on," he insists, handing her the gown.

"I thought you wanted to go home?" She asks, passing the gown off to the saleswomen who offers to start a room for her.

"I do. But we both know you're still going to try something on so I might as well contribute and pick something I know you'll look incredible in."

"Just the other day I thought you said I look incredible in anything?" She teases as she continues to browse through the displays on the sales floor.

"I believe when I said that you were wearing, or hardly wearing, that black lace thing you know I love, but you do - look incredible in anything," he adds from his place next to her.

He reaches out to examine a navy hand clutch, flipping the price tag over in his hand he gasps, "how many zeros?!"

"Must be nice to be able to read those now with the glasses, huh?" She tosses him a flirty wink over her shoulder.

"I still don't like them," he pouts, pushing the frames up on the bridge of his nose.

"But you look good in them," she says with a small peck on his cheek before crossing to the other side of the store.

"You have to say that. I'm funding this shopping trip."

"We both know I don't need you to, you like to."

"Mornings at Hermés were always kind of our thing," he reminisces, his fingers finding their place on her waist as he pulled her back into him for a brief kiss on the head.

"Look how far we've come since then," she muses.

"If you ask me, nothing's changed. I'm still following you around with shopping bags while you browse through a collection of the most expensive dresses in the world."

"Some things have changed," she rolls her eyes at him, lifting a short royal blue shoulderless dress with a zipper running down the back off the display and passing it to the saleswomen.

"Like?"

"Well for starters, now I can do this whenever I want" she steps towards him and plants her palm firmly on his chest, stepping towards him and capturing his lips between her own in a tender kiss.

"And this," She wiggles her ring finger and her engagement rings reflects the store lights across the marble floor.

"Alright alright, you've made your point. Why don't you try those on so we can get out of here and find some dinner?"

"Wait a second, I still have to look at accessories!"

Harvey finds himself seated on a bench outside of her fitting room a half-hour and nearly a dozen dresses later. She'd come out and showed him the maroon jumpsuit she ended up going back to and picking up, and he could only nod in approval as she leaned forward slightly and his prior idea about her cleavage was proved correct.

Next came the green dress he selected for her and it rendered him speechless when she pulled back the curtain and stepped out wearing it. The slit rested just above her knee and the green fabric hugged her curves perfectly, leaving her freckled back perfectly exposed and begging to be kissed.

"Well?" she gestures down at the dress.

"You look beautiful," he smiles up at her and she blushes down at her feet. It wasn't the first time he'd called her beautiful, in fact, he complimented her quite often, but the way he said it this time, a raw truthfulness in his voice, her heart lurched.

"Only one left," she smiles before shutting the curtain between them and wiggling out of the gown.

"Harv?" she calls from inside the changeroom. "Can you come and give me a hand?"

"In there?"

"Yes in here…."

"Am I supposed to do that? Aren't the employees supposed to help?"

"Just get in _here_!" she calls.

He cautiously peels back the curtain, not wanting to get yelled at by one of the pretentious sales ladies for entering his own fiancée's change room. Normally he wouldn't mind, but at a high-end store such as this one, he knew there was an entire catalog of rules he was unaware of, and he didn't intend on breaking any.

Donna is standing in front of the mirror in the blue dress with exposed shoulders, holding the dress against her breasts with one hand, her hair up with the other while the zipper lay only partially done up.

"Can you zip me up?" she asks over her shoulder.

He takes a step towards her so his body is pressed against her back, his left hand coming up to cover her own hand on top of her chest, his right hand lingering across her bare right shoulder before ghosting down her arm and sending a chill through her body.

His lips hover above her ear and she leans back into him slightly, watching his actions in the full-length mirror in front of her. He gently tugs at her earlobe before placing a small kiss on her collarbone, trailing them out towards her shoulder. He pauses and looks up, his eyes finding hers in the mirror as he tugs the zipper on the back of her dress up slowly, pausing halfway to admire her.

He finishes pulling the zipper up and places a kiss where the fabric meets her skin, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist as she twirls around to face him.

"Was that so hard?" she whispers, raising her brows at the word hard and trying to suppress her smirk as she presses up against him and can feel his excitement.

"I think you should get this one," he whispers before leaning down to kiss her.

"Why this one?"

"Because as much as I liked helping you into it, I really want to help you out of it later tonight."

Donna ends up wearing the dress out of the store, wearing a smirk as Harvey follows along beside her, his eyes never leaving her. She'd convinced him to make one last stop at Hermés, for old times sake and he agreed, permitting she let him buy her that royal blue dress and she wear it home, a deal she willingly accepted.

.

"Do you remember the first time we came here together?" she asks him, her fingers running absentmindedly over the fabrics of the Hermés scarves laid out on the display table in front of them.

"Of course," he replies, smiling at her, "it was right after all that bullshit with Stephen Huntley."

"No," she corrects, stopping in front of him, "that was the second time. The first time was -,"

"Right after we made partner," he says, finishing her sentence as the memory comes flooding back to him.

.

_"You're a partner now," she explains, "you can't just wear _any_ tie," she says as they sort through the display of luxurious silk ties._

_"Oh really," he jokes, smiling at her as she holds up a light blue tie against his shirt, contemplating for a second before putting it back, "and what kind of tie does a partner need?"_

_"Something understated, but clearly expensive," she muses as she passes over a few more options, picking up a forest green one for a moment before putting it back, "something that says 'I'm an asshole, but a smart one,'" she finishes with a laugh._

_"I am _not_ an asshole," he starts to argue as she pulls a dark navy blue tie off the rack and holds it in front of him, tilting her head to one side._

_"You are," she confirms with a smile, moving him in front of the mirror so he can see how the tie looks, smoothing the lapels of his jacket as she does._

_After his nod of approval, she passes the tie to a sales attendant, who returns it to them in a box._

_"Alright, what next?" he asks, something telling him that their trip was far from over._

_"Well," she says with a sigh, tilting her head down but flicking her eyes up at him, "I'm a secretary to a partner now, that_ has_ to warrant a new handbag."_

_He rolls his eyes, but smiles to himself as he follows her across the store._

_._

"I still have that tie, you know," he says, her matching smile letting him know she was thinking about that trip too.

"I know," she says, "you wore it last week," smiling over her shoulder as she turns her attention to a display of handbags.

He doesn't reply, but smiles to himself as they wander deeper into the store, her hand resting in the crook of his elbow.

.

_"I really don't understand why women need so many handbags," he says. He'd picked her up from her apartment that morning and they'd had breakfast at Nougatine - because he knew it was one of her favourites. He'd planned the morning as a distraction from everything that'd been happening at the firm - they could both use a day that didn't involve work, but with everything that'd she'd been through with Stephen, he wanted to make sure she was okay. "I mean, doesn't it get annoying to switch all of your stuff back and forth between all those bags?" he reasons as she passes the two she'd picked out to the attendant to be boxed and wrapped._

_"A woman needs to have _options_ Harvey," she replies, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world._

_They browse the displays around the register in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Donna notices that Harvey had stopped in front of a small table with several boxes of cufflinks laid out. He's holding one of the boxes in his hand and smiling slightly - clearly deep in thought._

_"Those are nice," she says, coming to stand next to him, gesturing to the box he's holding._

_"They look like a pair my dad used to have," he explains, "he'd only wear them on special occasions, and for some reason they always were my favourite."_

_She waits, knowing he has more to say and giving him the space to do so._

_"He let me wear them to my senior prom and Marcus wore them to his wedding," he continues._

_"Do you still have them?" she asks gently._

_"No. Part of me wishes I'd kept them, but we thought it made the most sense for him to be buried with them," he finishes, letting out a breath._

_._

"Do you remember those cufflinks I pointed out the second time we came here?" he asks. As they continue to wander through the store it's becoming increasingly clear that neither have a particular destination in mind, instead choosing to take a literal stroll down memory lane.

"You mean the ones I got you for Christmas last year?" she says with a smile.

"I was hoping that's why you got them, and that it wasn't just a coincidence," he admits, his voice low.

"Harvey," she says, pausing and pulling him to sit down on a bench near the shoe displays, "that day meant a lot to me. _Of course_ I remember," she confirms with a smile.

"That day meant a lot to me too," he replies, reaching for her hand and bringing it to rest on his knee.

"Really?" she asks, taken aback by his response.

"Of course, you were so upset about everything that'd happened with Stephen, but by the end of that day you were smiling again," he explains, "it meant a lot to me that I could do that for you."

"Oh, it wasn't you," she jokes, "it was the handbags."

"It was both," he retorts, smirking at her.

"You're right," she breathes, pulling him back up to standing, "it was both," she admits, linking her arm through his as they start to wander the store again.

"It was really like 60/40, though, right?" he reasons, which makes her laugh out loud.

"You're an idiot," she answers, playfully bumping into his side as he leads her out of the store.

"What's next," he asks, rearranging the last of the shopping bags into the backseat of the car, almost regretting asking the question.

"You know," she says as she slides into the passenger seat, flashing him that grin she knows he can't resist, "this dress is getting a_ bit_ uncomfortable."

"Well then," he replies, understanding the meaning behind her words, "let's get you home."

.

They'd barely made it through the front door before Harvey's hands find her waist and pull her back into him. Dropping the bags he'd reluctantly dragged around all day, he takes her face in his hands and closes the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a desperate, heat of the moment kiss.

"If I knew you were going to kiss me like that I would've dragged you shopping ages ago," she smirks, breaking the kiss and resting her nose against his.

"I've been dreaming about how that dress would look on the bedroom floor since you bought it," he breathes in a low sultry tone he reserved for Donna, a tone that sends a chill running down her spine.

He goes to lean in and kiss her again, only to have his glasses bump against her nose and send him reeling backwards, which causes Donna to laugh at the confused look plastered across his face.

"Nope. See, I knew I hated glasses for a reason, now they're preventing me from kissing you," he pouts, flinging the frames off his face and onto the counter next to her.

"Your glasses are not preventing you from kissing me, they're just going to take some getting used too," she tries to reason.

"Well, it's going to be really hard to get used to something I refuse to wear."

"That's a shame, because I think they make you look sort've like a hot professor," she smirks, picking up the frames and stepping towards him before sliding them into place on his nose, "Yup, definitely a hot professor."

"Donna," he sighs, his focus being drawn to where her fingers are tracing small circles down the length of his arms.

"At least wear them this one time, for me?" she flirts, peering up at him with lust filled eyes.

"Are you being serious?"

"Aren't you always the one who wanted to try the whole role play thing?" she asks.

"I believe I said I wanted to try a boss and secretary thing," he points out, his hands finding their place on her waist once again.

"Guess you're going to have to settle for professor and the top of the class at Harvard Law," she winks, pulling him backwards in the direction of their bedroom.

"Which one are you in this situation?"

"Top of the class, _obviously_. Now, let's go see if you were right about this dress looking good on the bedroom floor," she teases, turning on her heel and grabbing his hand as she leads him into the bedroom.

She stops at the foot of the bed and waits until he's standing behind her, his breath hot on her neck as he leans forward and kisses the crease between her shoulder and her collarbone. His hand finds the zipper at the back of her dress and gives it a gentle tug, pulling it down a few inches before leaning forward to place another kiss along her neck.

"May I?" he asks, his hand still linger over the semi-pulled zipper.

"Harvey, I only bought this dress so you could take it off."

.

She absentmindedly wanders out of the bathroom in her silk nightgown and makes her way over to the bed where he's already beneath the covers reading. Tossing back the comforter she climbs in next to him and snuggles into his side, her head resting on his chest. He lifts his arm to allow her to shift closer, and lets his free hand run through her hair.

"What are you reading?"

"Harry Potter," he responds before flipping his page.

"You're reading a children's novel?" she stares up at him flabbergasted.

"You're the one who made me watch all the movies!" he points out, closing his book and tossing it onto the nightstand.

"And you complained about it every single time," she points out.

"Well, maybe I liked them" he mutters under his breath.

"Must be a different world now that you can see it, huh?" she teases with a small smile before leaning up and placing a small kiss on his lips.

"Well to be fair, it was always a different world" he smirks at his own joke before settling further into the mattress and pulling her closer to his side.

"You look cute in glasses," she adds, nestling into him.

"I guess they aren't so bad," he sighs, leaning down and catching her lips with his.

LE FIN.


End file.
